Missing in Action
by Indigo Angels
Summary: The title says it all! Hannibal and the team race to find and rescue their Lieutenant before the jungles of Vietnam claim him for good. Loose follow on to 'A Life on the Edge', but you don't need to have read that first. Chapter Six now up.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is NOT a slash story. However, there is a mildly slashy (H/F) version going up on my Live Journal site if anyone would prefer to read that. Link is here: http: / / indigo - angels . livejournal . com /50430. html (just copy into browser and delete the spaces). Thanks! Happy reading... Indigo x

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><p>Hannibal stood at the foot of the medical cot and stared incredulously at Colonel Robert Steele as he tried to absorb the information he'd been given.<p>

"You don't know?" he repeated, his eyes wide with building anger, "What the hell does that mean Rob?"

The man in the bed shifted uneasily and tried to ease the pressure off his broken ribs and his shattered shoulder. "It means I don't know, Hannibal," he answered tiredly, "I know it's not what you want to hear, but it's all I can tell you." Hannibal just stared at him, obviously waiting for more, and with a tired sigh, Rob provided. "The whole thing went to shit in seconds," he whispered dryly. "Jackson was on point and must have triggered a mine, he certainly didn't know anything about it, and then they were on us in seconds. Tiger and Jimmy were killed instantly, Dibs was caught in one of those sharpened bamboo traps and the next thing I knew, a log swung out of the fucking jungle and sent me flying."

Hannibal just stared at him. "And Face?" he asked quietly.

"I told you," Steele replied tiredly, "I don't know."

"But where was he when you were hit?" Hannibal persevered.

"Rear guard," Steele was white, his face pinched in pain and a nurse bundled up to them, instantly checking him over, feeling his forehead, taking his pulse.

"So, was he taken? Shot? C'mon Rob, you must have some idea!"

Steele's eyes were now shut tightly in pain and the nurse turned to Hannibal, "I'm sorry sir, but you will have to leave now," she said firmly, "Colonel Steele needs quiet and rest."

Hannibal's eyes flashed on to her in anger, "I'm sure he does, but I need to find my lieutenant," he snapped before turning back to the man in the bed, "Come on, Rob," he pleaded, "think! Where was he? Did they take him? Why wasn't he there when the extraction came in?"

Steele was having trouble breathing now and the nurse was fumbling with the oxygen tank. "I'm sorry, John," he rasped as the mask was placed over his face, "I just don't know."

"Colonel Smith, sir..." the nurse started again, "I really must insist!" But Hannibal was already moving, turning on his heel and marching out, almost sweeping the curtains off their rails as he burst through them.

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><p>If BA thought he'd known rain before he came to Vietnam then he was wrong, very, very wrong. Even coming from Chicago as he did, and everyone knows that Chicago gets more than its fair share of the wet stuff, rain wasn't rain until you got here. Someone said to him once that it was okay the rain, here, at least it was warm, but really, in BA's head, that was part of the problem.<p>

Once the heavens opened, and BA silently suspected that it was more likely this rain came from hell, then you were soaked to the skin in under a minute. Literally. To the skin. Every layer of clothing drenched, right down to the regulation skivvies and socks, soaked through, and because of the damn heat and humidity, never to get dry again. BA knew about the difficulties for the troops in World War One with the mud in the trenches but he never expected it here. Really, in fifty years had no one come up with a better way to prevent trench foot than to keep changing your socks? And then, BA groused, heaving his pack further up onto his shoulders, what the hell chance did you have of keeping your spare socks dry when the regulation packs soaked up the rain like a damn sponge. When they found Face he was going to get him to try and track down some proper waterproof boots and packs. If they had to walk around in a damn waterfall, knee deep in mud, then they should at least have the right equipment.

He sighed loudly as kept on tramping through the mud and the rain and tried not to let the traitorous thought that they might not ever find Face from entering his head.

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><p>For about the twentieth time in the last five minutes, Murdock felt his feet slide out from underneath him and this time, only Ray's firm grip on his collar stopped him from pitching off the rough path and into the jungle gorge next to them. He smiled sheepishly in thanks and precariously felt around for a more secure foothold in the mud, sending a nervous glance up at the Colonel as he did so.<p>

Hannibal hadn't wanted him to come on this mission with them, pointed out, quite accurately, that Murdock didn't have the experience on the ground, or indeed the training, that the rest of them did. But Murdock knew he couldn't just sit around on the base twiddling his thumbs while the rest of the team went out and looked for Face; Face was his best friend, the anchor in reality for his sanity, the person who knew him instantly with just one look – and if that friend was in trouble, then Murdock wanted to be there. Eventually Hannibal had relented, Ray's quiet promise to look out for him had helped, and even BA's gruff, "Maybe the fool might even be helpful since we one short," had helped to change the colonel's mind.

But now, Murdock mused as he slipped yet again in the thick mud, maybe Ray was regretting offering to babysit him, perhaps he hadn't realised just how clumsy he was in these conditions, and if BA rolled his eyes just one more time, Murdock was worried they would stick right up in his head. Fortunately Hannibal hadn't seemed to notice the potential liability they had in their midst just yet.

Murdock had never seen the colonel so focussed, so driven with single minded determination and he felt reassured. The terror he had experienced when he heard that Face hadn't returned from a seemingly routine trip out with Steele's boys was still there, but one look at Hannibal's face, knowing the pig headed stubbornness he'd had to employ to get this little search and rescue operation authorised by the right people, Murdock managed to keep all those fears locked out of sight. Face was in trouble, there was no doubt about that, but if you were in trouble then having a fired up Hannibal Smith on your trail was just what you needed. They would find Face, they would bring him home and he would be okay; Murdock truly believed all that, because if he didn't, then he knew he wouldn't be able to go on.

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><p>Darkness was closing in, but Ray knew that Hannibal wouldn't stop yet; he'd want to keep going until they had lost all of their light, following the tracks left by the little band of NVA who had ambushed Steele's boys.<p>

Ray had never wanted Face to go on that damn mission in the first place, Milk Run it may well have been, but Face was part of Ray's team, and Ray never felt happy in letting one of his boys go out if he knew he wouldn't be there to back them up. As soon as he'd seen Hannibal's face as he stormed out of Medical the other night, he'd known that Face was in big trouble, and he'd also known they would be going out to try and sort it. That's why, when Hannibal had finally appeared in the team's hooch, mission authorisation grasped tightly in his hand, they were all ready to roll, packs loaded, ride on standby, Murdock nervously edging from foot to foot, desperate beyond all belief to go out with them. Hannibal had just looked at Ray, nodded once and the proceeded to tell them what they were up against.

Steele ran a ten man team and was one short, Billy-Boy being in the MASH with a bullet hole in his hip, so he'd asked for Face. The kid was keen, was a completely changed person in the four months since he'd tried to protect Murdock and almost got himself thrown out instead, and was making a reputation for himself of being a damn fine soldier. Ray had advised Hannibal against it, but Face had been desperate to go, and Hannibal had said that the kid deserved a chance to let people see what a good job he could do, had spent so long trying to piss everyone off, he needed opportunities to reverse their opinions of him.

Hannibal's opinions, of course hadn't needed any reversing, since that whole episode with Murdock, Ray knew that Face had impressed him more and more with each passing day. Ray himself had only three months of his tour left and then he was out of here, back to the states and the life he had dropped when he decided, in a fit of patriotism, to join up. He knew that Hannibal had already been thinking about his replacement, needed another XO lining up, and had realised just a few weeks ago now, that Face was that man. Ray approved, kid was still a little rough around the edges, but he was damn good, loyal, brave, sharp as a tack, fit and strong, hell of a good aim on him, yeah, Ray would feel happy leaving Hannibal and his crazy jazz in Face's hands, so long as they could pull him out of whatever mess he was in here first...

Ray had seen Hannibal's point about letting Face go with Steele and knew it was valid, but still, he didn't like watching the kid walk out on them that morning, was still too damn young to be out here in his opinion, nowhere near the twenty four that Hannibal insisted he was. And as the chopper lifted up taking Steele and his team out over the wire, Ray couldn't stop the anxious squirming in his belly.

"Right, men," Hannibal's voice cut through his musings and Ray looked up, shocked he'd allowed himself to drift like he had. We'll set up camp here. You all know the drill. BA perimeter check, Ray, first watch."

Hannibal himself turned to his pack as Ray forced his mind back into gear.

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><p>Hannibal lay in his bedroll and tried to catch some sleep; they were moving out at first light, and he needed to be well rested, mentally and physically able to cope with whatever the day threw at him. To say he was worried for Face was the understatement of the year, when he'd heard the kid hadn't been picked up by the extraction team that went on for Steele, he'd felt the icy fingers of fear grip him tightly and refuse to let go. Talking to Steele himself, hearing that at least no one had seen Face fall had been scant reassurance in the face of the fact that no one had even the slightest clue as to what <em>had<em> happened to him.

Hannibal had gone straight to General Hasberg and insisted that he immediately take a team out to search for his missing lieutenant, and after token resistance, Hasberg had caved in as Hannibal knew he would. Next he went to see the fittest men to return with Steele from the jungle as well as the extraction crew who had pulled them out, and armed with as much information as he could possibly garner he went to organise his team only to discover that Ray had done it all for him.

Two hours after being given the green light by Hasberg to move out, Hannibal and his team, including Murdock in the back rather than the front, were lifting off into the grey afternoon sky.

They'd been dropped five clicks from the ambush site and moved in cautiously from the west, checking as they went for signs of survivors or bodies, easily finding the last place Face had been seen. The rest of the day had been spent combing through the foliage, looking for signs of their lieutenant, some kind of clue that might just help them get to him, but there was nothing, only a trail leading away, obviously made by Charlie as they left the site. At first light they had followed.

It was obviously not a large group , four, maybe five men, at least one of them bleeding and Hannibal was convinced they could catch them up in a day and a half tops. He'd pushed his team all day, the trail becoming fresher and fresher with every hour, until the failing light had made him draw the day to a reluctant end, the last thing they needed to do now was lose the trail in the darkness, and with it their only hope of finding the kid.

Hannibal couldn't decide what he wanted to find when they finally caught up with their quarry. If Face was with them, then they had taken him for a reason. None of the other men left alive after the ambush had been taken, so why Face? What could they possibly want with him? An uncomfortable thought nagged at the back of his mind, a rumour that had only recently reached his ears of an NVA General and his particular _liking_ for young male POWs. White, blond, young male POWs. Hannibal buried that thought again and turned over, trying to force his overwrought mind to go to sleep.

Tomorrow they would catch Charlie up, they would find Face with them, they would kill all the bastards, and they would call in an extraction and take Face home. That was what Hannibal _had_ to believe in, the alternatives were just too damn appalling.


	2. Chapter 2

The new day dawned damp and cloudy, the heat sticking their shirts to their backs as they quickly packed up the camp. Within minutes they were off once more, Ray on point, three soundless figures following him through the dense undergrowth, silent as monks, eyes scanning the gloomy jungle all around them. They knew that the soldiers they had been trailing were close, maybe just hours away through the trees, so caution was essential, their very lives, never mind Face's life, might just depend on it.

As it was they had been travelling a mere forty minutes in tense silence when Ray lifted his hand for them to stop. Hannibal, next in line, but a good twenty feet back, instantly dropped low and passed the hand signal backwards, readying his gun while he did so. Ray crept forward, out of Hannibal's immediate sight and the colonel felt his heart speed up in anticipation of what was to come. It was obvious that Ray had found something, and really, they were too far back still to have caught Charlie up yet, if they had continued at the pace they had been setting so far then it should have been early afternoon before they came upon them. So, what was this? What had Ray seen? _A body_... the voice in Hannibal's head kept repeating, someone has died and they have left him behind, moved on without him, but who? Not Face, please, not Face.

Ray had disappeared so far into the gloom now, that Hannibal had no idea where he was and was left with a rare and unwelcome feeling of frustration building up inside him. Face had so much to offer, he was maturing into a damn fine young man as well as being an exceptional soldier. Hannibal was impressed beyond words at how he was turning out, the way he looked out for Murdock, juggled the acquisitions Hannibal threw at him, how he was managing his developing relationship with BA, his quick mind, how he could refine Hannibal's plans, offer his own suggestions. Hannibal was proud of him, and was starting to think of him as something more than a man in his unit, something more than just another soldier – and thinking like that was dangerous, was the fast track to nothing good.

Suddenly, Ray appeared in the foliage ahead of him, a silent spectre, gesturing at Hannibal to come forward, his face white and drawn, and with a heavy heart, Hannibal started edging forward.

What he found, took his breath away and as he straightened up in the little clearing where Ray was waiting for him, he quickly scanned around, trying to work out exactly what had gone on. Everyone he could see was dead, and judging by the flies and the smell, had been for at least a day. The nearest body to him was laid at the foot of a sturdy tree, neck broken, long lengths of twine still grasped tightly in his dead hands. Next to Ray there was another corpse, throat cut wide open, the dried blood crusted all over his uniform providing a meal for a hundred or so flies, and the final two lay right in the edge of the jungle, gunshot wounds in each of their heads. Four bodies, four NVA soldiers, no sign of anyone else.

"What do you think?" Ray asked quietly. "You think Face did this?"

Hannibal looked from the gunshot wounds to the slit throat to the man with the broken neck and let out a long sigh. "It's entirely possible," he answered.

"So where's he gone then?"

Hannibal flicked his eyes around the scene of horror once more and then bent down to pick up a length of blood and sweat stained material laid at the foot of the tree as he pondered his answer.

They stayed in the clearing for two hours as they combed it for signs of their man and finally Hannibal had managed to put together a series of events that he felt stood a reasonable chance of being accurate.

"Okay," he said, drawing his men around him, "looks like these Charlie were escorting a prisoner, who may or may not have been Face," Hannibal threw a warning look at Murdock and the pilot nodded, realising that it would be crazy to raise his hopes too high at this point in time, "and they stopped here to make camp for the night." His blue eyes flicked around until he saw the dirty scrap of linen on the ground and bent to retrieve it. "The prisoner was bound and blindfolded, and this guy here" he gestured at the broken body at the foot of the tree, "must have untied him, intending to retie him to this tree for the night."

BA's eyes narrowed, thinking of Face, the anger building up inside him as he thought of him being treated like that.

"But, the prisoner surprised him, broke his neck, took his knife and dispatched that guy," he nodded at the second corpse, "before helping himself to a gun and waiting for the other two to come back."

All eyes fell on the bodies of the men just outside the clearing. "Come back?" Ray asked, confused.

Hannibal nodded. "They must have gone off to scout the perimeter or something, and the prisoner got them as they came back. Look at the way the bodies are facing, they were heading in here, not running off."

All four men nodded. "And... the prisoner?" Murdock asked, obviously making a huge effort not to say, 'Face'.

"Well," Hannibal was still holding the dirty scrap of material, "he was obviously disorientated, wounded maybe and had no idea where he was, so I'm guessing he headed down there," he pointed off to the side of the clearing where the ground started to slope downwards, "so he could find a stream, follow it to a river. Where there are rivers there are bridges and roads and eventually people."

All eyes drifted to the side of the clearing. "So, that's where we goin' then?" BA asked brusquely and when Hannibal nodded, he picked up his pack and slung it over his shoulder. "Well, come on then," he said, his eyes narrow and focused, "let's get goin'."

There was no obvious trail to follow from the clearing, but within two hours, with the team travelling in a fan formation, BA had called over to Hannibal. Fighting through some particularly dense foliage, Hannibal joined him and looked down where the big guy was pointing. "I've been followin' someone's trail here, Colonel," BA explained, "I wasn't sure at first, but it's getting clearer an' clearer with every step," there were deep frown lines on his forehead as he spoke and Hannibal understood why in an instant. "We still followin' then?"

"Of course," Hannibal replied, meeting his eyes. "I know what you are thinking, BA."

"Faceman wouldn't leave a trail like this, one a blind man can follow. He's no amateur."

"Unless he wasn't thinking straight," Hannibal offered quietly, fingers brushing the blood that clung to a frond of elephant grass. "Unless he was injured, exhausted, running a fever..." BA frowned. "Don't give up, big guy," Hannibal patted his arm. "We follow this trail and find out what's at the end, worry about what comes next after that. Right?" BA nodded and they set off once more.

Within an hour the sound of water reached them and Hannibal slowed everyone down, took point himself and edged forward through the lush jungle. The going was heavy, but he almost stumbled out onto the water's edge with the abrupt way the foliage suddenly cleared. Catching himself just in time, Hannibal dropped down into cover and carefully scanned the muddy river bank. He could see that this was a well used spot, hoof prints covered the ground at his feet and he could see a path through the jungle to his left that was obviously used by river buffalo as they came down here to drink. Their huge, heavy feet had turned the entire riverside area into a mud bath, however, with hundreds of deep impressions, each made by a single hoof. He let his eyes travel further downstream, fighting the gathering gloom of the approaching night and suddenly he stopped as he made out a shape fifty yards downstream, half in and half out of the water.

Signalling to Ray to come and take over his position, Hannibal carefully, carefully slid out of his hiding place and down into the thick buffalo churned mud, keeping close in to the higher, more solid bank as he crept towards the mystery shape.

Hannibal was fairly convinced that his team where the only humans in the general vicinity, he'd seen no birds disturbed, heard no alarm calls other than those unavoidably triggered by his team, but his long tour of duty had taught him that suspicion was his friend. He'd seen and heard of many instances where the VC had used dead or injured soldiers and civilians to set a trap for the Americans to walk into. Facts of life like that were a hard but unwelcome truth of this conflict they were fighting.

The light was failing fast, but Hannibal was now close enough to be able to see that the shape in the mud was indeed a person, but further than that, he couldn't make anything else out. The figure was covered in mud, literally coated in it, and from where he was crouching, Hannibal could see that they had fallen onto the muddy river side from the bank above and had obviously tried many times to claw their way back out again. However, due to fatigue or possibly injury, that hadn't been possible, and Hannibal could see the trail in the mud where they had slid back through the mire until they came to a rest with their legs in the turgid water of the river.

All was silent around him, and with one last glance around and the knowledge that Ray was covering his ass, Hannibal broke from the cover of the bank and made for the still, mud covered figure. His heart was pounding as he crept closer and closer, a glimpse of clean trouser leg told him that this was, indeed a US serviceman in front of him, he edged even closer and risked reaching out a hand to grab a mud caked shoulder to turn the figure over and his heart almost stuttered to a halt, even though he'd expected it, even though he'd probably hoped for it, actually seeing Face laid there in front of him like that was a lot to take in.


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal dropped his gun, knowing that if this was a trap it would have been sprung by now and hurriedly wiped the thickest of the mud from around the kid's nose and mouth. The body in his hands was cold to the touch, but he reminded himself that that could have been just the chilling effects of the mud and the water and he certainly wasn't going to let himself jump to any horrific conclusions just yet. Once Face's airways were a clearer than they had been, he set his finger tips the task of trying to find a pulse. He realised he was shaking as he dug around in the thick mud around the kid's neck, chanting a litany of hope over and over as he tried to scrape away enough of the heavy clay from his finger tips and Face's neck so that he could finally press skin to skin.

Once he'd managed that, however, it took another age to finally locate a pulse, and when he did, when he felt its slow, feeble beat against his finger tips the breath he let out must have been audible to the rest of the team. "Hey, Face, kiddo, you hung on for us, eh?" he whispered as he reached under the limp arms and dragged those legs from the water. "You did right. I told you we'd never leave you behind."

Once Face was clear of the water, Hannibal lifted his head and let out a shrill whistle, his signal to the team to move in, and smoothed a grubby hand over Face's mud-caked cheek. "Just stay with us, now, hey? We're gonna get you home in no time at all." Face didn't stir, but Hannibal had never really expected he would, just the fact that he had a pulse and was breathing was enough for the colonel right now.

Footsteps squelching through the mud caught his attention and he looked up just as Murdock appeared at his side, eyes wide and panicked, Ray just behind him and BA, gun still out, eyes still circling their position, brought up the rear.

"Colonel," Murdock breathed as he landed on his knees in the mud at Hannibal's side, "is he... is he... Hannibal... I..."

"He's alive," Hannibal interrupted brusquely, knowing that Murdock had to hold it together right now, "I don't know how badly hurt he is, we need to move him out of all this damn mud and warm him up, kid's frozen solid."

Ray moved forward, slipping slightly in the mud and throwing his gun over his shoulder. "BA, keep look out," Hannibal ordered, "And Murdock, get back up there and see if you can get a fire going, we'll need some warm water to clean all this shit off him so we can see what's what."

Hannibal nodded gratefully as Ray grabbed hold of Face's ankles and Hannibal stood to take him under his arms, he knew they would have to radio their position in as soon as possible, but, as Ray had obviously already realised, no extraction would be coming until morning now, and so they needed to get Face warm and comfortable for the night. The way that Ray would just anticipate Hannibal's thoughts when he most needed him to was one of the things that he valued highest in the man.

Together they managed to haul the unconscious Face up to the edge of the river bank, but getting him higher was proving impossible, as soon as they started lifting him up to lie him on the grassy bank, one of them would lose their footing in the mud and they would have to start all over again. In addition to that, the damn rain had started again, and was making it hard to see anything as it fell in their eyes. It took all four of them to eventually haul him up and over the lip of the river bank, and Ray and Hannibal were exhausted by the time they struggled over to join him.

BA went straight back to perimeter duty while Murdock made sure that his fledgling fire, protected from the rain by a camouflage tarp he'd hung between four trees, was still struggling to life, leaving Ray and Hannibal to finally carry Face out of the rain and onto the protection of the ground sheet that Murdock had spread out on the ground under the tarp.

Once they had Face carefully settled, Ray moved out and Hannibal could hear him hacking down banana fronds so they could lash them together for added protection from the rain, Murdock was filling cook pots with water to warm over his now fairly impressive fire while BA was invisible somewhere in the jungle around them, watching all their backs and despite the bleak situation he was in, Hannibal smiled to himself, he might have an unorthodox team, but hot damn, they were the best. He dropped to his knees next to his unconscious lieutenant and began to cut away all the wet, mud covered clothes.

As Hannibal worked, his smile was long gone and he found his frown deepening with every minute. Face's body, icy cold to the touch, was a mass of bruising and swelling and it was blatantly obvious the kid had taken quite a beating. Murdock appeared silently next to him, only just visible in the light of the fire that illuminated one side of Face's now naked body, a strip of filthy t-shirt protecting his modesty.

"How is he?" he murmured to Hannibal, placing a steaming bowl of water next to his friend and leaning over to look.

"Not good," Hannibal snapped back in reply. He was pleased that Murdock seemed to be bearing up under the circumstances, but he knew that nothing would be gained by sugar-coating the situation. "His breathing is laboured, pulse weak and erratic, wide spread bruising and swelling. I suspect broken ribs, collapsed lung, internal bleeding, concussion..." he shook his head, "add onto that dehydration and hyperthermia and I think it's a damn miracle kid is still alive, never mind he managed to make it all this way on his own two feet." He took a cloth from the first aid kit and dipped it in the warm water. "I need you to get that other cloth there captain and dry him off as soon as I clean him up, okay?" Murdock nodded and picked up the cloth. "Be careful," the anger in Hannibal's voice was almost palpable, "kid's one giant bruise." Murdock nodded again and together they got started.

They worked in silence, quickly but gently cleaning the grime and the chilling mud from Face's body, uncovering more injuries with every passing second. At one point, Hannibal had made a sound suspiciously like a growl as Ray, finished now with his banana fronds, carefully tipped Face up onto one hip so that his back could be seen and, as the mud was gently wiped away, long red welts, obviously the by-product of a beating with a bamboo cane, were uncovered.

As soon as Face was clean and dry, the worst of his injuries tended to and dressed, Hannibal told Murdock to get some bed rolls out while he himself starting stripping off his wet outer clothing, leaving himself dressed only in undershirt and shorts.

"Whatya doin' colonel?" BA asked as he returned to camp to trade off with Ray.

"You know the drill for hypothermia, Sergeant," Hannibal answered tartly, sliding under the blankets that Murdock had heaped over Face and scooting as close as possible to the kid, "I'm warming him up, he's still cold as ice."

BA just nodded, remembering that training session now and how he'd thought at the time that hypothermia would never be an issue for them in the stinking hot sweat pit that was Vietnam. He shook his head in wonder and went to join Murdock who was rooting around in the packs, trying to find some rations to heat up, but Hannibal called him back.

"BA," he said softly, unwilling to startle Face, "get on that radio and arrange an extraction for tomorrow. Make it as close as you possibly can, I don't think Face is going to take too kindly to being moved too far." BA just nodded, and as the comforting smells of heating rations started to drift through the little camp, Hannibal felt himself relax minutely as Face's body, pressed up so close to his in the dark, finally began to warm up.

They ate quickly, all hungry after the day's exertions, and Hannibal remained tucked tightly against Face's side even though he was now happy with his body temperature. After the worry of the last few days, it felt good to have the kid next to him like this, going nowhere, safe and sound and where Hannibal could monitor every breath and twitch of his body.

BA and Ray offered to cover the night in four hour shifts each and Hannibal overruled Murdock's objections to agree. He himself was not going to leave Face's side all night, and Murdock had nowhere near enough experience on the ground to be able to cover a night watch on his own. BA set up his own bedroll under the cover of the tarp and was soon asleep, Murdock tidying up the camp before joining him, and as Hannibal listened to the breathing of three of his men, he allowed himself to slowly drift off to sleep, still holding Face tightly to him in the dark.

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><p>He was unsure at first what had woken him, but as he strained his eyes and ears in the thick black jungle night, he heard the sound again and knew at once that was what had broken into his sleep. Above the usual jungle sounds, night time was never quiet in this place, Hannibal heard it again, the soft intake of breath that was almost a moan, and it came from the man in his arms.<p>

"Face?" he whispered, rising up onto one arm and feeling Face stir against him, "You with us, kiddo?" Face was silent once more, and Hannibal felt strangely disappointed that he had slipped straight back into unconsciousness again, but just as he started to lower himself down to sleep, pulling Face close to him once more, he all but exploded in his arms and for a man who had, only minutes ago, been so still and so catatonic, the change was startling to say the least.

"Xuong xe toi!" Face yelled into the night, startling roosting birds high in the canopy above them while his arms flailed wildly in Hannibal's direction. "Dung cham vao toi, toi se giet chet ban!"

"Face, kid!" Hannibal ground out, trying to grab the thrashing arms in the thick darkness, "Calm the fuck down! It's me, here!"

But Face wasn't even listening, "Toi se giet ban! Toi se giet ban!" he yelled and inevitably his fist connected hard with Hannibal's face, a solid _thump_ right on the cheek bone that had Hannibal groaning in pain as he tried to move away.

Suddenly a dark shape loomed up in the darkness next to them, and Hannibal heard Murdock's frantic voice. "He thinks you're Charlie, sir," he garbled out.

"No kidding," Hannibal seethed, still trying to restrain Face's flailing limbs.

"Talk to him in Vietnamese!" Murdock urged, "Maybe he will listen then!"

Hannibal grunted as another fist caught the side of his head, "I don't speak fucking Vietnamese," he shot back, wondering why Murdock just didn't help him pin the lieutenant to the ground.

"Binh tinh, Face," Murdock's voice was soft, like honey, and Hannibal felt the kid sag almost at one, "Ban dang an toàn tai, không có ai là se làm ton thuong ban," he soothed and Face stopped, almost sitting across Hannibal's chest as he blinked into the darkness.

"Murdock?" he whispered, voice cracked from all the shouting.

"Yeah," Murdock replied, a hand reaching out to touch Face's cheek and just as his fingers made contact, all the life seemed to rush out of Face again and he dropped like a stone, only Hannibal's lightening fast reflexes saving him from hurting them both as he collapsed across his chest.

Silence fell as Hannibal groped about for a pulse, his heart hammering as he feared the worst, and then letting out another long breath as he found it going crazy under his fingers, racing away with the adrenalin surge and he allowed himself to lie back, keeping Face on his chest, his arms going around the younger man's back, mindful of the painful welts as his own breathing slowly calmed.

"He alright there, sir?" Murdock asked almost timidly from the side.

"Yeah," Hannibal replied, letting a hand creep up to stroke through the filthy matted hair, "he's fine. You did good there Captain, well done."

Murdock didn't feel good, he felt horrible, sick to his stomach after seeing Face like that. He knew only too well what it felt like to be trapped in another place inside your own head, and he hated that Face had felt it too. He thought of what his friend had been yelling, 'Get off me, don't touch me, I'll kill you!' and his blood ran cold, wondering what had happened in the four days Face had been missing. He started as a firm hand grasped his arm and could just about make out Hannibal's features in what was left of the fire. "Get some sleep, captain," Hannibal told him, voice quiet now. "Tomorrow he's going home with us, no one's going to hurt him now."

Nodding numbly, Murdock staggered back to his bedroll and curled up, back to Face, eyes on the last dancing flames of the fire. Hannibal watched him for a moment before adjusting himself so that Face lay more against him than on top of him, the weight off his broken ribs, and closed his eyes, knowing damn well that neither Murdock nor himself would get another wink of sleep all night.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Vietnamese courtesy of Google Translate. Murdock's already told us what Face was shouting, and if you are interested, Murdock was telling him to calm down and that no one was going to hurt him. I apologise to all Vietnamese speakers for any mistakes!<em>


	4. Chapter 4

Hannibal was dozing lightly when the sun finally rose and the thick, humid night turned into a grey, humid day. After his period of half wakefulness in the middle of the night, Face hadn't stirred at all, and Hannibal was starting to get really concerned about him; no longer cold to the touch, the colonel could feel the heat radiating from the body under the covers next to him. With a sigh, he gently extracted himself, easing Face down onto the ground sheet beneath and crawled out of the nest of blankets he'd made.

He quickly found his discarded clothes and noted with relief that someone, probably Murdock, had laid them out in front of the fire so that they were now only slightly damp – about as dry as anything got out here – and bent to pull them on. It was as he lifted a foot to drop it into his trousers, being as quiet as possible so as not to wake the two sleeping shapes by the remains of the fire, that he froze and stared at his calf in disgust. "Fucking bloodsuckers..." he muttered under his breath and pulled his knife from the sheath on his belt, turning it upside down and using the blunt side to scrape the offending leech from his skin. Frowning at the neat round hole, already running in blood due to the anticoagulant the leeches secreted, he yanked his trousers up and stood to fasten the fly – and then he froze again.

In two quick steps he was at Face's side, dropping to his knees in the mud and gently lifting the blankets away; the sight that met his eyes made his stomach churn and he cursed himself for not thinking of this possibility earlier. From his initial glance only he could see upwards of six leeches currently feasting on Face's blood, blood he needed a damn sight more than they did right now. With a string of muttered curses, furious at both the bloodsucking parasites and himself for not realising sooner, he started scraping them off, watching in dismay as the fresh red blood oozed freely from the wounds left behind.

It took twenty minutes to find all the leeches and remove them. He knew from experience that they liked to find warm, dark creases in the skin where they would be able to feed in peace, and Hannibal had located a couple in places he'd rather not have looked. Finally, twelve leeches and twelve dressed wounds later, he wrapped Face back up, being very careful not to leave any gaps that would let any more in, and then he went to the men at the fire to wake them.

First he shook awake the unmistakable figure of BA before turning to wake Murdock, only to find Ray in his place. His XO sat up immediately, going from asleep to awake in a second as only he could and knew at once what was behind Hannibal's scowl.

"Sorry, sir," he said, scrubbing at his face, "Captain Murdock insisted. It was just as dawn was breaking and he was wide awake, came to relieve me for the last hour only. I thought since it was getting light you wouldn't mind so much."

Hannibal noted the tired, red rimmed eyes looking up at him and nodded sharply, he understood, didn't mean he didn't mind, but he understood. He gave Ray a look that let him know that this incident would be revisited once they got back to base but then turned to check back on Face.

"BA," he instructed once he could see the big man was up and had packed away his bedding, "go and relieve Murdock. Ray, get some food going. How long until extraction?"

"Three hours," Ray informed him quickly. "Rice paddy four clicks south west of here."

Hannibal nodded. Good. With the terrain and Face's condition, they should just make that.

"Okay then," he said, packing away his own kit, "we leave in twenty minutes. Everyone okay with that?"

There were murmurs of assent from both men, and satisfied, Hannibal turned back to Face, frowning in trepidation at the high colour on his cheeks as it became more and more visible as the daylight grew.

There was silence in the little camp, Hannibal only nodding as he took the warm C-Ration that Ray handed him, not even pausing to see what it was before he started eating, his eyes fixed on Face the whole time, his worry growing exponentially with every minute the kid was unconscious.

Eventually Ray spoke. He was stripping leaves from a sturdy bamboo pole and Hannibal knew he was preparing a stretcher to help transport Face to the chopper. "He'll be okay you know, Colonel," he said, his voice quiet. "He's a strong kid, and I know he's had it rough these last few days, but he _will_ be okay."

Hannibal sighed and scrubbed a hand over his tired face. "You were right," he admitted resignedly, "I should never have let him go out with Steele."

Ray echoed the sigh and paused in his stripping of the bamboo pole. "It's not your fault this happened, Hannibal. You were just trying to give the kid a chance to shine. You know he can, we both do, there's nothing wrong with wanting to give him that chance with others." Hannibal didn't reply, just crouched in the mud with his almost untouched meal watching as a sheen of sweat started to build up on his young lieutenant's face. Ray went back to hacking at the pole. "Guilt's not going to help anyone here, and you know that. Don't think I don't know what's going on in with you and him."

Hannibal looked up sharply, his face creased in a frown, "And what the hell is that supposed to mean, Major?" he asked loudly, turning his full CO glare onto Ray.

"It means," Ray lowered his knife again and turned his sympathetic eyes onto Hannibal, "That I know you think-"

But Hannibal didn't get the chance to find out what Ray knew, because at that moment there came the unmistakable sound of feet crashing through the undergrowth and both men had retrieved their weapons, covered Face with the tarp and taken up defensive positions in the undergrowth, seconds before Murdock finally burst back into the camp.

Weapons were lowered but Murdock had seemed oblivious to them anyway, as well as remaining happily oblivious to the long sigh that came from Ray and the dark look his CO was throwing his way.

"Hannibal, sir," he breathed heavily, eyes flicking to Face's flushed skin as Ray pulled the tarp off him. "BA sent me to get you, sir; he says he thinks he's seen a patrol sir, somewhere down the valley behind us. Sir," he added again, finally noticing Hannibal's frown.

Hannibal turned and exchanged looks with Ray. "I'll go," Ray offered, "and you can stay here with the kid."

For a moment, Hannibal looked unsure, but then he just nodded, and he and Ray quickly moved into action, throwing all their gear into the bushes on one side of the clearing, then dragging the ground sheet with Face still on it into a ditch on the other side. Hannibal readied his gun and made sure he had ammo close at hand before he slid in as well, disappearing from Murdock's sight in a moment and Murdock quickly stamped out the remains of the fire, throwing dirt over the ashes to try and disguise what had been there.

"Okay," Ray whispered quietly as soon as the clearing looked at ordinary as possible, "Let's go Murdock, show me where BA is." With one last glance at the edge of the ditch where they knew Hannibal and Face were lying, they turned to the jungle and set off, Murdock leading the way.

The last Hannibal heard of them was Ray's hissed, "For fuck's sake Murdock, will you go quietly?" before the foliage swallowed them up.

And then it was quiet, deathly quiet, not even the usual hum of insects and birds that were the permanent soundtrack of the jungle.

And then it was quiet, deathly quiet, not even the usual hum of insects and birds that were the permanent soundtrack of the jungle. Hannibal took a quick glance at Face silent and still behind him and then turned back to study the jungle all around, knowing that the first he was likely to see of a Charlie scouting party was the whites of the men's eyes. His breathing sounded unnaturally loud in his ears and he tried to make it long and deep, long and deep as he steadily kept watch, pleased when the bird calls and insects started up again as he knew they would hear someone coming long before he did. Just as he was starting to relax a little, feel some of the tension slip away, he was nudged sharply in the back as Face started to stir.

Hannibal turned around and watched, as Face's eyelids flickered, and then in the next second a frown pulled at his brow and a moan escaped from his lips. Swearing under his breath, Hannibal made sure his gun was in easy grabbing distance and then turned to Face, his hand immediately going to rest on that creased brow. "Hey, kid," he whispered as loud as he dared, "just take it easy. You're okay now, you're safe."

But Face just turned his head away and the frown deepened as he murmured something quietly in Vietnamese. "Oh, brother," Hannibal muttered and reached up to smooth Face's hair back from his flushed skin, wishing that Murdock was here to handle this just like he had done before. Still Face wouldn't settle though, and if anything, Hannibal's presence just seemed to be making him more and more uneasy. "Face. Kid," Hannibal tried a little louder, and that's when Face started yelling.

For a second, Hannibal was frozen in shock and then he reacted almost instinctively. Throwing his weight forward to pin Face to the ground beneath him, he took his hand and clamped it hard over the other's man's mouth, pressing as hard as he could to stop any noise from escaping. The effect on Face was instantaneous. The moment that Hannibal's hand pressed onto his mouth he just went wild, eyes wide open but blatantly not seeing anything in front of him, body bucking and twisting in a desperate attempt to throw Hannibal's weight off him and his voice, muffled though it was by Hannibal's palm, still loud in the jungle, startling the birds from their roosts and basically running up a huge flag pointing out their position.

"Face!" he hissed, pushing himself as close to his lieutenant's eyes as possible, "For fuck's sake kid, calm down! You are going to get us both killed!"

It was no use; Face couldn't hear him, didn't see him and just thrashed even harder, the muffled Vietnamese, starting to tear at Hannibal's nerves. He was so on edge, so convinced that if Face didn't quieten down, they were both going to die, that he acted without thought. As Face continued to fight against him and shout through his hand, Hannibal quickly leant over him, whipped his hand away and promptly pulled Face right into his chest, holding him in a tight bear hug, the lieutenant's face pushed up right over Hannibal's heart.

For a moment, nothing changed, Face still fought and bucked violently, but then, like a switch being thrown in the dark, it all stopped. Hannibal wondered if Face had slipped back into blessed unconsciousness for a moment, but then, just as he was starting to pull away, the kid came back to life, surging up to hold Hannibal against him, and Hannibal felt himself responding in kind, hugging the kid back, holding him tightly like you would a terrifed child.

It was a fairly ridiculous situation to be in, Hannibal found himself thinking in some deep corner of his mind. Here they were, in mortal peril from enemy soldiers, death a possibility in any approaching minute, and what were they doing with their time? Hugging in a ditch. The stark reality of their situation had Hannibal yanking away just as footsteps sounded behind him and he whirled, gun raised and ready and pointing straight at – Murdock.

"Whoa, whoa, colonel!" The captain said, retreating slightly as he raised his hands in mock surrender, "Don't shoot me, I'm a friendly!"

"Murdock," Hannibal said, relieved beyond belief to see his pilot standing there rather than a hoard of bloodthirsty enemy troops, "report."

Snapping off a quick salute, Murdock straightened to attention. "BA thinks the scouting party are going away from us now," he reported smartly. "They are definitely heading away from the LZ so we should be okay to move out. He and Ray are gonna stay for a few more minutes to make sure, while I help you get the Faceman ready to move out." It was only at this point that Murdock let his stance slip and he craned forward trying to get a look over Hannibal's shoulder at his friend. "He still okay Colonel?" he asked quietly, worry tainting the edges of his words.

Hannibal let out the breath he had been holding all through Murdock's quick speech and, remembering Face and what they had been doing only seconds before Murdock's arrival, he twisted on his hip and looked at the lieutenant who was unconscious once more, still flushed and sweaty but looking a lot calmer than he had before. "He's fine," he told Murdock curtly, "now we need to get him the hell out of here. Find those poles Ray was working on and let's get this litter finished."


	5. Chapter 5

They were later setting off than Hannibal would have preferred, but BA needed to stay an extra half hour or so, tracking the movements of the VC through the jungle below them, making sure they were heading away. Eventually though they were moving, Hannibal on point, following the coordinates to the RV, BA and Ray carrying Face between them and Murdock as rear guard, moving slowly and silently along behind them, much to Ray's relief. Progress was slow, and they were still a good half hour away from their destination when Murdock froze, his eyes flicking straight to the top of the canopy above them. "Incoming," he said quietly, but loud enough to make Hannibal's blood run cold.

"What is it?" he asked just as softly, knowing that Murdock could tell engine of anything that flew out here just by the sound.

Murdock cocked his head to one side and listened intently for a couple of seconds before shifting his eyes back to Hannibal. "It's definitely a Huey sir, a Delta. It's coming for us."

"Shit," Hannibal swore, turning to look at Ray.

"They're early," Ray put in before the question could be asked.

Hannibal took all of three seconds to settle the plan in his head before he turned to Murdock, "Right captain, you go on ahead, get to that Huey, provide them some back up and _don't let them leave without us._" Murdock nodded, "Whatever you feel you have to do to make them wait, you do it, my authority, you got that, son?"

Murdock nodded, knowing damn well that Hannibal was giving him the authorisation to take over piloting the chopper if that was appropriate. They all knew that some pilots wouldn't hang around if their intended extractees weren't there when they arrived, it was understandable, an approaching chopper brought Charlie in from miles around, but an extraction crew leaving without their troops basically signed the death warrants of those left behind. Squeezing past the others, Murdock let his fingers trail over Face's still form, feeling the heat of his body radiating through the blankets and quickly snapped a salute off to Hannibal. "No one is getting left behind today, sir," he reported and at Hannibal's answering nod, he took off at an easy lope through the jungle.

"Right," Hannibal said sharply to the others, "let's hustle."

They set off at a brisk march, Hannibal on point still, eyes wide and darting about, covering everything around them, while BA and Ray followed behind, mouths set in tension, shirts soaked in sweat as the muggy cloud cleared and let the sun lend its heat to the already far too hot day. Their hands stung as sweat ran into the blisters caused from the bamboo handles of the stretcher, but neither man made a noise of complaint, both knew that the boy on the stretcher would run himself into the ground for them on any given day of the week, and so they would be damned in hell before they did at least the same for him.

Hannibal squinted as rays of bright sunlight made their way between the thick foliage above them and dazzled him as he tried to look past the shining shafts and into the gloomy shadows below, knowing that's where any enemy would come from. He paused to take a moment to listen ahead, hearing the distant engines of the Huey, but there was also something else prickling at his sixth sense and he heard the others instantly stop behind him, lowering the stretcher to the ground and silently readying their guns. For a second nobody moved, there was nothing to hear, not a single sound other than the ones Hannibal would expect from the heat of the jungle. He felt a soft _plop_ on his forearm, and well trained not to jump or yell in such situations, looked down to find a palm sized black scorpion on his shirt sleeve, obviously fallen from a branch above him. He moved quickly and flicked it off with the butt of his gun, letting out a quick sigh of relief as it turned and ran for the leaf litter, knowing from bitter experience that those buggers hurt when they stung, and then signalled to his team to move forwards again.

For twenty minutes they shifted as fast as they could, the sound of the Huey's engines getting closer by the second, calling them home, but calling Charlie in just as loudly, and at last they were there, the heavenly green bird sitting in the middle of a paddy field, water only ankle deep if that, and there was Murdock, standing on a skid, keen eyes scanning the surrounding area, gun at the ready, the co-pilot mirroring his stance on the other side of the craft. Hannibal let out a huge sigh of relief when he realised that this meant the pilots were good ones, possibly ones the team had used before, and Murdock hadn't had to get into any unpleasantness with them to get them to wait.

The three men dropped their burden at the edge of the paddy and waited silently, all of them far too long in the tooth to just rush out there and get mown down in a hail of bullets. "Okay," Hannibal muttered eventually, "we go together on my count," BA and Ray nodded. "Something about this is making me uneasy, but I can't actually see anything out there, so we're going to have to just go for it. I'll cover you, so will Murdock when he sees us and we all just keep moving, okay?"

Then men silently bumped fists and got ready to move, Hannibal squeezing Face's shoulder lightly and whispering, "Hang on in there kiddo, you're nearly home." Face didn't even twitch, and Hannibal frowned in worry at his sweat damp hair and flushed skin, before shooing a couple of flies off him and turning back to the chopper. "On my mark," he whispered, and watching BA and Ray tense next to him, he "hissed, NOW!" and they were off.

That one hundred metre sprint to the Huey seemed to take up half of Hannibal's life, but be over within seconds all at the same time. The moment they broke the cover of the trees gun fire burst into life. At first Hannibal thought it was Murdock providing precautionary covering fire, but then he noticed the unmistakable bull-whip crack of the AK-47 and realised that these were the bad guys and his caution had been fully justified. Murdock's return fire was instantaneous, as was Hannibal's own cover, and with water splashing up around their ankles and gun fire reverberating through their skulls, they ran towards the down draft of the chopper.

BA wasn't a huge fan of flying, but he was always pleased to haul his butt back into one of these things when someone was shooting at him, and today was no exception. He had the front of the litter and spun to one side, pushing it into the belly of the chopper as the co-pilot tugged it the rest of the way in. Then he turned and even as bullets where ricocheting madly off the skids and the sides of the bird, he yanked his own gun into play and started returning fire, giving Ray and his colonel the time they needed to scramble aboard.

"Go!" Murdock yelled, his voice loud and authoritative in the melee, "Now, Jimmy boy, take her up!"

Moving back from the gaping doors, BA looked up into the cockpit at the whiter than white rookie pilot currently easy the huge Huey up from the ground and smiled as he realised that the kid wouldn't have stood a chance against a Murdock in full swing, no wonder he had managed to persuade him to hang around so easily. Within seconds they were above the canopy, above the range of the AK-47s and heading into a perfect blue sky. The co-pilot was back in his seat while Murdock leaned over both pilots, slapping them on their backs and babbling excitedly over the great job they had done. BA forced himself to sit up and took a second just to enjoy the cool rush of air over his exhausted and sweat soaked body as if buffeted him through the open sides of the Huey. Then he turned to check on Face and his stomach clenched in fear, "Colonel!" he yelled over the noise of the engines.

Hannibal was slumped in the back of the chopper, breath coming in huge ragged gulps as he tried to regulate his breathing. He'd checked they were all in, checked they were up off the ground and out of danger and then he had slumped, the effects of the last half an hour's serious exertion catching up with him. BA's yell pierced straight through all that fatigue, however, and he sat up, eyes going straight to BA and then down to Face which is where BA was staring. Instantly Hannibal's gut knotted in terror and he scrambled over the floor on his hands and knees yelling, "Medical kit!" and yanking away the blankets that he had wrapped Face's still naked body in, eyes drawn to the growing red rose of blood on the top most one, spreading around that tiny little bullet hole. 


	6. Chapter 6

Ray was as his side with the medical kit in an instant as Hannibal uncovered the site of the bullet wound right at the side of Face's hip. _His hip,_Hannibal thought desperately, it might not be the worst place it could have entered, but the bullet may still have smashed his pelvis, ploughed through his intestine spreading internal infections, ricocheted into his stomach, lodged in his spine... After the heat of the morning, Hannibal was now drenched in the cold sweat of fear as his fingers poked and probed and lifted, trying to get some answers to his unasked questions; it seemed cruel in the nth degree that Face had come all this way, escaped from his captors, found his way to the river, held on until his team found him, only to die on the way back to base...

And then he found what he had, unconsciously, been hoping for, another wound at the top of the kid's buttock, an exit wound, two neat round holes that told him that the shot had come from quite close, that the bullet hadn't had chance to yaw yet when it hit him, and clean in and out - that was the very best they could have hoped for here. He pointed the second hole out to Ray, who nodded, relief evident in his own eyes and together they set about disinfecting and staunching the blood and dressing the wounds and finally wrapping Face back up again, and that was when Hannibal eventually had the chance to look up into the kid's face.

For the second time in ten minutes he felt a lurch of shock, as instead of seeing him sleeping still, unconscious to the whole world, two blue eyes starred right back at him. Instantly Hannibal scrambled up to his side, grabbing the filthy hand that reached for him, the hand opposite to the one Murdock was already gripping tightly to his chest, and slid his other hand onto Face's cheek, feeling days' worth of stubble and mud and dried sweat under his palm. "It's okay!" he yelled over the sound of the chopper and looking straight into those blue eyes that were clouded with pain and fear and fever. "It's gone straight through, a flesh wound, hopefully. You'll be okay, kiddo, you will be."

For a second, Face held his eyes and then he nodded, just one, tight movement before his eyes fluttered and the strong grip that had amazed Hannibal in the first place, faded into nothing. Hannibal looked at his closed eyelids, bruised and flushed with fever before looking up into Murdock's fearful expression. "He'll be okay, Captain," he repeated, and hoped to heaven he was right.

* * *

><p>Face knew very little about the days following his forced march with the NVA through the steaming jungle.<p>

He'd been knocked out in the original ambush on Steele's boys. He'd _felt_the danger coming and had been making his way back to the main body of troops to alert them, frustrated beyond belief that no one had replied to his low whistle, a sign he knew any of his own team would have interpreted as danger in an instant, and then he had been cleaned out by one of their swinging log traps. Why the men in front of him hadn't triggered it, he didn't know, but he had been rushing, anxious, and not looking where he put his feet. He had seen the log coming out of the corner of his eye and gone down, but not quickly enough and the damn thing had connected smartly with his head, sending him sprawling into unconsciousness.

He awoke as he was dragged to his feet, too fuzzy still to work out the entire conversation between his captors, but he understood enough to know that they were taking him to a General Duong, as a _gift_no less. While he had never, ever, heard of that happening before, he was far too street wise not to understand exactly what it meant, and how the rest of his undoubtedly short life would be spent if he ever reached Duong.

He waited for his chance to escape as the forced march began, and within hours it came. He managed to slide down the steep sides of a ravine and escape into the jungle around him, near enough to the ambush site that he knew he had a chance of making it back in time for the planned extraction. That chance had never materialised, however. The NVA troops caught up with him when he stumbled and knocked his head again, slowing him down and disorientating him so much that he almost walked right back to them.

After that they beat him hard, so badly he couldn't walk and so they made camp for the night, tying him upright to a tree, denying him food and water and forcing him to relieve himself where he stood. The next two days followed the same pattern, they would march all day, with Face tied to the man both in front and behind him. They gave him minimal food and water, and tied him to a tree for the night, beating him with sticks and their fists just to make sure he didn't run while they slept.

On the third night, he got what he knew was probably his last chance to save himself and reacted with swift brutality. Breaking the man's neck with his bare hands was something he'd fantasised about as they'd lead him blindfolded through the jungle for the past three days, and then he'd drawn the man's knife as he fell, dead, to the ground and used it to dispatch his comrade who was already approaching Face, his gun lifting.

Then Face had taken the gun, making up a pack of things he would need while listening for the approach of the final two from the surrounding jungle. As soon as he saw them, he took them out, one shot each to the head and they were dead before they hit the ground. Then he took his supplies and left, making his way down hill in the hopes of finding a river and a bridge where he could hide out until an Army Patrol came by. If an Army Patrol came by... but he knew he had no other choice, wasn't anywhere near strong enough to be able to get anywhere else.

In the end he was barely strong enough to make it to the river, and the sight of that small, slow moving trickle had sapped everything from him. There would be no bridges to cross this, no roads and no patrols, he was lost. And then, just when things were looking about as bleak as they could be, he had stumbled down into the mud of the river bank and didn't have the strength to haul himself out again. In the end he had just given up and felt himself slide down into the water. As he lay there, he could almost feel his life ebbing away, dripping out of him second by second, and he tried to comfort himself that at least dying here, like this. Simply falling asleep never to wake again, was so, so much better than dying at the hands of General Duong once he'd reached the end of his useful existence as a disposable fuck toy. It was a comfort, but only a slight one.

After that things were very vague and mixed up. Snatches of the team interspersed with fevered memories of his beatings, of the faceless General Duong taking ownership of his naked body, moments of pure fear, plus weird feelings of comfort, and strangest of them all, indistinct memories of being held by someone so strong and powerful but feeling so _needed_ and wanted, so safe... But that memory, for now was out of reach, nothing but a fleeting _feeling _of something that might not have even existed.

* * *

><p>He finally opened his eyes three days after being hauled out of the jungle and found himself in a bed in the MASH, empty cots all around him, and Hannibal Smith sat patiently by his side. "Good morning," Hannibal said dryly as Face's eyes eventually focussed on him and his book, but then he was on his feet, hands on his lieutenant's shoulders pushing him back gently as Face tried to sit up. "Hey, there, kid, easy does it," Face stilled at the gentle tone to his voice, "You've been through the wringer these last few days."<p>

As soon as Hannibal said it, Face felt it. Every single muscle and bone in his body, every patch of skin and chunk of flesh crying out in objection to being moved and he fell back in a heap, and muted groan all he allowed to escape his lips. "Yeah," Hannibal sympathised with him, "I know."

A few moments of deep breathing later and Face was able to try again. He reopened his eyes once more to find Hannibal leaning over him, concern etched right into his face and he managed to force out a thin smile. The colonel smiled back, looking relieved, before offering, "You want some water? I can help you sit up if you want some sips?"

Face nodded gently, aware of the way his head was pounding and gritted his teeth as Hannibal helped him up into the pillows a bit more, before holding a cup to his lips and helping him take a few tiny mouthfuls. Once that was done, Face fell back, totally exhausted and unable to keep his eyes open any longer. He felt that there was something he needed to say at this point, something really important that he and Hannibal should discuss, but right now he just couldn't place it. Instead he let his eyes slide shut; he really couldn't keep them open any longer and groped about at his side until he felt Hannibal's hand take hold of his tightly. That one sensation of a warm hand gripping his was so comforting, made him feel so safe and secure, that he could feel sleep creeping back up on him and he _knew_he had something to say.

"Don't wanna go back..." he mumbled, immediately worrying that perhaps Hannibal would think he meant to the unit, rather than back to the States.

"I know, Face," came the calm reply. "You don't have to. You can recuperate right here, stay with us if that's what you want."

Face nodded again, relived that the boss had read between his lines. And then he thought of something else, "Thanks..." he mumbled again, his mind starting to darken and his lips getting hard to control, "for coming for me..."

Hannibal smiled as he watched sleep creep up and claim his young lieutenant once more, before the smile disappeared to be replaced by a look of utmost sincerity. "Always, kid," he whispered to the sleeping man, "I'll always come for you."

And deep in his dreams, Face was happy. There was still this elusive _something_ that was niggling at the back of his mind, but for now that would wait. His team had come for him when he was in trouble. His _CO_ had come for him. For the first time in his life, Face finally felt that he'd come home.


End file.
